The Tragic Story of Harry's Sweet Ride
by Shinoko
Summary: Voldemort has been defeated at last, but victory has not come without a price. Listen as Harry tells the story of the final battle and wonder why he hasn't been commited to an asylum yet.


Nobody understood the pain he felt. While everyone around him celebrated the final defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Harry grieved for the horrible sacrifice that paved the way to said downfall. Some might consider his feelings to be rather absurd, but none of them had to lose their sweet ride to destroy any maniacs trying to kill him. 

"I'm so sorry, Charlene," he sobbed into his toast one morning during breakfast in the Great Hall. He earned a number of odd looks for his outburst. Particularly from his so-called friends that sat on either side of him. 

"Um, Harry?" Hermione asked as she reached for the butter. "Who's Charlene?" 

Harry turned to her, trying his best to wipe his tears away. "She was this sweet car that I purchased for $50 from some guy who may or may not have been dealing drugs." He sighed. "She might have smelt horrible -- I think someone left a corpse in the trunk for too long -- but she was cheap, and she was mine." He paid no attention to Hermione, who had lost interest and was attempting to move away from him. "Handled like a dream. Everything you could want in a car." 

Ron, who was not quite as smart as Hermione, and as such was still paying attention to Harry's 'tragic' story of loss, nodded for the other boy to continue. Which, unfortunately, he did. 

"The only problem was that I didn't know how to drive. I needed driving lessons, but couldn't go to a driving school or anything like that." He looked at Ron. "The Dursleys would never let me, and even if they did, they would never pay for it." Ron nodded, and Harry continued. "In the end, though, I was able to convince Aunt Petunia to teach me to drive." 

"How?" Ron asked as he reached for the jam. 

"I told her that the sooner I learned how to drive, the sooner I could leave them forever. So she agreed." 

Ron smiled. "Nice logic." 

Harry smiled back, although the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thank you." 

Hermione sighed. "Ron, please don't encourage him." 

Harry ignored her and took a drink from his pumpkin juice. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Driving lessons." He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears. "They went well for quite some time. I even was able to take Charlene out onto the freeway once or twice. But then..." 

Ron nodded, leaning forward. "But then...?" 

Harry sighed heavily. "We were coming back from another successful driving lesson and had just turned onto Privet Drive. I was going about 30 miles an hour or so. And then, out of nowhere, Voldemort Apparated into the middle of the street." 

Ron gasped. Whether it was at the mention of Voldemort's name, or just because it was the reaction Harry had wanted, nobody will ever know except for Ron. And he forgot the reason why he gasped soon afterwards, so the previous statement of nobody ever knowing stands. 

Harry nodded sadly. "When you're going 30 miles an hour, and someone appears right in front of you, it's really hard to stop in a hurry, so I hit him. Not on purpose mind you, because I have more respect for Charlene than that." Hermione groaned and put her head between her hands. "He went flying through the air, and must have gone fifty feet or so. When he landed it was on some nitwit's iron gate fence. You know the kind with those nasty metal spikes on the end?" Ron nodded. "It was a demented version of a shish-ka-bob or something." 

"Thank you, Harry, for that very graphic description while we're eating," Hermione said dryly. 

Not noting the sarcasm, he nodded back at her. "You're welcome." He turned back to Ron, who was continuing to neglect his breakfast in favor of hearing Harry's story. "That might have been alright, if a bit anti-orgasmic, if it weren't for what I saw as I got out of the car to check on the damage." 

Hermione gave him a weird look. "Anti-climatic." 

Harry looked to her. "What?" 

She sighed. "The word you're searching for. Anti-climatic. Not anti-orgasmic." At Harry and Ron's blank looks, she shook her head and turned back to her breakfast. "Never mind." 

The two boys exchanged looks and shrugged. 

"She gets weirder every year," Ron commented. Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione just looked annoyed. "So what happened when you got out of the car?" 

Harry took a deep breath. "It was horrible, Ron. You remember what happened to your dad's car when we drove into the Whomping Willow, right?" Ron nodded. "It was worse, Ron. Much worse." No longer able to contain himself, he began to sob hysterically. "It's all my fault! She's dead, and it's all my fault!" 

"Er, your Aunt Petunia?" 

Harry shook his head. "No, Charlene! Totaled, the mechanic said! Might as well take her to the junkyard!" He wailed loudly, and those in the Great Hall who hadn't been staring before began to stare at him. "My sweet ride is gone!" 

"Oh, for the love of--" Hermione set her spoon down in her cereal bowl. "Harry, Charlene is just a car. She might have been cheap, but there will be better cars out there. You'll get a 'sweeter ride' then." 

Ron glared at her as he tried to console the weeping Harry. "You don't get it, do you? A boy's first sweet ride is forever. No male anywhere will ever love a ride, no matter how sweet, as much as his first." 

"Ron, what the hell are you talking about?" 

He just shook his head at her and continued to console Harry. "She's gone, Harry. You have to be strong and carry on with your life. Charlene would have wanted it that way." 

Harry nodded, wiping away at his tears. "I suppose I'll have to." He looked to Ron. "Did you know that Sirius had a flying motorbike? He left it to me. Her name is Beulah." 

Hermione put her head between her hands, feeling the beginnings of a migraine headache. 


End file.
